


The Second Hello

by vulcanarmr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Does Not Understand Humans (Supernatural), Castiel Has Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester From Hell, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel is Bad at Feelings (Supernatural), Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Dean Winchester Has Flashbacks of Hell, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Remembers Hell, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Saved, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Gen, Heaven, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kinda, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Hell Dean Winchester, Pre-Season/Series 04, Quote: I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Violence, Trauma, Traumatized Dean Winchester, castiel uses he/they pronouns, sorry for any grammar mistakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanarmr/pseuds/vulcanarmr
Summary: Castiel and Dean first met in a barn. At least, that's the first time Dean remembers meeting Cas.~~~NOT ABANDONED, JUST TEMPORARILY ON HOLD
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Bams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was originally gonna post this as one big long oneshot, but i decided to post it as a bunch of short chapters because it makes it easier for me to write. it's basically based on a post i saw a while ago talking about how in 04x01, dean reacts like he recognizes castiel's name despite never having met him before. i thought it was an interesting idea, so here we are. i also saw someone point out that angels don't really have an assigned gender, so all angels are practically trans/gender non conforming. i thought that was interesting, as well, so Cas will be using he/him and they/them pronouns in this <3
> 
> here's the post: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ee/89/c7/ee89c79590ebb0b90f87ca0322cc207d.jpg
> 
> and the scene for reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=SN&hl=fr&v=3POm9qT1d_8
> 
> i have no idea where this is gonna go, but we'll see!!
> 
> mind the tags!! stay safe everybody <3

**_2008._**

Castiel hardly feels the shots of the shotgun when they hit his vessel. He doesn’t understand for the most infinitesimal moment why Dean is shooting him. Or why Dean is looking at him as if he is the enemy. But he finds an explanation quickly enough.

His vessel.

Dean doesn’t recognize him.

That must be it.

Dean will stop once he knows it’s him.

They continue their walk towards Dean, approaching at a steady pace. They see Dean grab the knife. They make no move to stop him. It’s only a knife. And Dean won’t hurt them when he recognizes them. They need to believe that.

“Who are you?” Dean asks, his voice hard. Castiel stops, maintaining their, or rather their vessel’s, eyes on Dean.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The words come easily, and Castiel feels something. It’s something rather new to him. He believes it to be hope. He almost smiles. Dean is still looking at him with the same expression as before. Nothing’s changed. Hope turns to something else Castiel is rather unfamiliar with. Dread. Or perhaps not dread. Distress? Something similar.

“Yeah…” Dean mumbles, eyes still trained on Castiel, dark with suspicion. “Thanks for that.”

Castiel gives a small nod, his hope slowly turning into the other emotion. He doesn’t know what it is. He tries to name it as his hope goes completely with the knife plunged into his vessel.

So. Dean doesn’t remember.

Castiel reaches up, pulls the knife away. He lets it drop. Dean’s eyes widen, and Castiel wants to tell him not to be afraid. He needn't be afraid. 

Not of him.

Castiel doesn’t take his eyes off of Dean when he stops the crowbar. And he makes quick work of making the other human sleep. He turns slowly back to Dean, trying to find more hope within himself.

“We need to talk, Dean.” He pauses. “Alone.”

Dean shakes his head ever so slightly, kneeling down next to the sleeping human. Castiel watches, before turning away slowly and shifting his eyes elsewhere.

“Your friend is alive.” He tries to sound reassuring. He doesn’t know if it works. Human emotions are still new.

“Who are you?” Dean’s voice says. Castiel doesn’t look up, although they want to.

“Castiel.” Maybe it will help Dean remember. 

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Dean’s voice is harsh, heavy with a sound like grinding metal. He still doesn’t recall. “I mean what are you?”

Castiel finally looks up. He wonders if the painful emotion he is feeling is showing on his vessel’s face. All he wants to do is repeat the same thing. That he is Castiel. That he saved Dean from perdition. That he knows him. That Dean _needs_ to remember. Instead, “I’m an angel of the Lord.”

Neither says anything. Castiel has hope again as he sees a fraction of Dean's beautiful soul in the green of his eyes. And it seems like Dean might be remembering. For just a moment. Then he stands and speaks.

“Get the hell outta here.” His tone is comparable to when they first met. Hostile. “There’s no such thing.”

Castiel blinks slowly, remembering why he is here to begin with. He need not be distracted by these newfound emotions. By the beauty in Dean’s eyes. He must complete his mission. “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” He allows his wings to partially manifest, and again he is allowing his emotions to come through as he hopes that Dean will at least remember them. Dean’s expression changes, and it doesn’t seem to be for the better.

“Some angel you are,” Dean says after a moment. Castiel ignores the feelings that come along with the words. “You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.”

Castiel looks down. “I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be...overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice.” They look up. “But you already knew that.” They think of when their voice wasn’t too much for Dean. Of when they could speak and Dean could speak back.

“You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you _talking?”_

Castiel nods.

“Buddy, next time lower the volume.”

Castiel looks down. The painful emotion is back. “That was my mistake,” he says gently. “Certain people - special people - can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them.” Because Dean used to be. He used to be able to hear him. To see him. “I was wrong.” Something has changed.

Dean makes an odd face. “And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?”

Castiel looks down at his vessel, fingers running over the clothing. He’s explained all this before. Dean should know. But it’s all gone. His memory of Castiel is gone.“This, this is...a vessel.”

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?” The tone makes the painful emotion stronger. Castiel blinks.

“He’s a...devout man, he actually prayed for this.”

Dean inhales sharply. “Look, pal, I’m not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?”

Castiel decides to call the emotion despair. He feels wrong. “I told you.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t seem to believe it. He doesn’t remember or believe. “And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?” It sounds like he is spitting the words out. Castiel hates the sound of them.

“Good things _do_ happen, Dean…” he assures. He needs Dean to believe it. Even though it isn’t completely true.

“Not in my experience,” Dean says after a moment.

“What’s the matter?” he asks softly, in the way he used to before Dean was returned to Earth. Then it dawns on him, and it feels familiar. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Another painful emotion fills Castiel’s entire being. Dean feels as he had when they first met. He feels afraid. Helpless.

Expendable. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Castiel is aware that they have a mission that they are meant to be carrying out. So they shift their focus to that mission once more. “Because God commanded it,” they say, again electing to ignore all these human feelings. “Because we have work for you.” They’re an angel, they shouldn’t have feelings at all, at any rate. And if Dean doesn’t remember, if he has truly changed, then there’s no point.

No point at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm probably going to be switching between writing scenes from the show, and what happened in between s3 and s4, so the next chapter will be about Cas saving Dean from hell and all that! i hope you're enjoying this so far, and i hope this goes well lol
> 
> have a wonderful day/night!!


	2. Zonrensg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i don't exactly know where this is going, but i have the first few chapters (kind of) written. i have no idea how often i'll be posting, but we'll see...

**_Before._ **

_"Dean Winchester is saved."_

The righteous man’s soul had been found.

After searching far and wide, it had been found.

The first thing Castiel noticed was how bright the soul was. How bright and utterly broken. Blinding colours and light enveloped in shades of darkness and pain and evil. And it was beautiful. Castiel couldn’t help but pause as he looked at the soul in awe. He forgot for a moment why he was there, hovering high above and simply staring at the almost unearthly perfection that the soul seemed to emanate. He had never thought something from Earth could be so alluring. He found himself wondering how.

And then he recalled why he was there.

He swept down, closing in on the soul as quickly as he could muster to move. He was falling, for just a moment, and then he caught himself, just as he reached the soul, then lifting him and moving in the opposite direction. The soul screamed. Castiel didn’t understand much about humanity, but he understood that screaming meant pain. Angels screamed, too. He flew higher, faster, holding the soul tightly against his own being. Tainted souls, demons, came at them, scratching at Castiel and the soul. It was evident the demons were desperate, that they didn’t want to lose the soul. Especially to the angels. There was a sensation Castiel hadn’t felt in a long time. Pain. But still, he persisted. He would not fail his mission. So he pushed onward, wings forcing him forward hard and fast.

He would not let the soul go.

Castiel heard other souls calling after them, screeching, howling. Their grip only tightened as they flew, almost painfully so. The soul of the righteous man continued to scream. It was an awful, shattered sound. One that somehow sounded as if ever brokenness every known had been crammed into one man. Castiel wanted it to stop.

The two of them passed the final barriers of Hell; the soul screamed louder. The noise pierced through Castiel’s very being. And then they were out. But still, Castiel flew higher, and they flew through the opening the angels had left, through the different planes, through reality itself and into a part of Heaven Castiel had only heard of, but never seen.

And they were seeing it now.

For the first time.

Though they had no time to dwell on such things. There were other matters to attend to.

The soul of the righteous man was still screaming, and it came as some sort of a relief when Castiel was finally able to release him. The soul was then crowded and swarmed by other angels, all wanting to do their part, all with a mission. Castiel was pushed back, and he simply watched. He listened as the screaming stopped, as they put the soul to sleep. He was grateful for the end of that atrocious sound. And when his siblings finally cleared away and left, he stayed, because it was what he had been assigned to do. Oversee the soul. Rebuild his body. 

Castiel stepped closer, watching the soul as he slept. With the change in setting, doing so felt different. Everything was calmer. There was no screaming. The soul was cleaner than before.

More of the beauty shone through.

And yet there was still pain. Pain and darkness that had come from Hell, and some that had come from before. Scars that would be permanently be etched into the soul’s essence. Castiel thought the soul was beautiful regardless. 

His thoughts were drawn away from his mission for a moment as he allowed himself to admire the sight. He felt enthralled. Entranced. And with that state of mind came the questions. Questions that Castiel often had, but that he never allowed to be expressed aloud. How could something so grand and beautiful fit inside one human? Why had God created something of that nature in the first place? The concept seemed unfathomable. Impossible. And yet. Castiel reached down and ever so softly touched the soul, feeling a surge of energy pass through him as he did. It was a strange, yet amazing feeling that left Castiel filled with awe. And the questions continued. He brought his gaze away moments later, and he stepped back, removing the soul from his touch. As much as he was fascinated by him, he had work to do.

Castiel had seen the soul’s body when he was still alive. They had been tasked with memorizing him the moment the man had sold himself to save his kin. So Castiel knew exactly what they were doing. The materials to reconstruct the righteous man’s body were all there, waiting to become whole. It was God’s will. God had commanded it. And so Castiel began the recreation of the body.

Atom by atom.

Cell by cell.

Piece by piece.

When he had finished, his siblings returned to help delicately place the soul into the body. Castiel watched as they came, as they worked, as they left. When they had gone, he saw that the colours of the soul were dull, hidden inside the body he had created. He reached over and placed his palm gently against the man’s forehead, willing him awake, before stepping back. The man woke with a gasp, oxygen still foreign to his newly constructed lungs. His eyes opened, and Castiel felt something inside himself change when he noticed that he could still see the man’s soul clearly through his eyes. A glimpse, but still. Castiel did not notice, however, that the man’s eyes had now fallen on him, and that his face had twisted. When he realized, he straightened his vessel out slightly, maintaining eye contact. And then, the man’s voice was heard.

_“What the hell?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed that chapter! have a great day/night <3


	3. Elo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i decided against switching between moments from the show and moments from before season 4 for the sake of my own sanity. all the chapters from here on out will take place before season 4 unless there's a date at the top of the chapter that says otherwise. things are kinda weird, but i have an idea of where this is going now, so bear with me, things will (probably) make more sense as things progress <3

_“What the hell?”_

Castiel watched as the righteous man glanced around, before his eyes fell on them once again. They stood still and said nothing. The man sat up, slowly, eyes never leaving Castiel’s as he did so. The way his face had twisted remained, and Castiel knew it represented some sort of emotion or feeling. What that feeling was, they didn’t know, nor did they understand. The man stood after a moment, extending his arm and aiming his fist for the face of Castiel’s vessel. Castiel stopped the blow easily, catching the man’s hand, and blocking the other as it came towards their head as well. Green eyes widened and stared at them.

“What are-”

“Do not be afraid,” Castiel interrupted, forcing the man back towards the cushioned surface he had been lying upon before he woke. “I am Castiel.” He continued to force the man back until he was sitting once more, and even then, he did not let go of the man’s fists.

“Wh…where am I?”

“Somewhere safe.”

_“The hell is that supposed to mean?”_ His voice was rough. Harsh. Castiel matched that tone of voice to the expression on his face. Both were signs of a harsh emotion. Perhaps fear. It must have been terrifying to wake up in a room with no door. Though Castiel imagined it was better than staying in Hell. He tilted his vessel’s head just slightly.

“There is no reason to be alarmed. I saved you.”

The man’s face twisted again, and Castiel assumed he was feeling something else. It was strange, how emotions came and went so easily with humans. “You _what?”_

“I saved you.”

“I don’t-” He stopped. “I was in Hell.” His shining green eyes looked up and met the eyes of Castiel’s vessel. “How-”

“I saved you,” Castiel repeated for the third time. He wished he could put the man to sleep again, for he was becoming irritated at the way he reacted. But that thought was ignored, and Castiel focused on his mission. He also pretended that he did not see the beauty of the man's soul in those eyes. The man was an irritant, yet a beautiful one. Castiel could not deny that no matter how hard he tried. The man said nothing for a long moment, simply staring. He then spoke, lowly, his eyes downcast.

“Let go of me.”

Castiel blinked. “Do not attack me again.”

“No promises, pal.” The words sounded coarse.

“I wish you no harm. It will be easier if you make no attempt to attack me again.”

The man cursed. “Fine, I won’t try n’ kill you, _now_ will you let me go and get me some damn clothes?!”

Castiel looked at him, before he finally loosened his grip to allow him to pull back. “Apologies. There is clothing for you on the pedestal.”

The man stood and looked around, before making his way to the pedestal. He kept his eyes on Castiel as he did so, and when he reached the pedestal, he looked down. “Saving me from Hell doesn’t give you a free pass to stare at me when I’m naked, you creep,” he said after a moment, his voice still low. Castiel nodded.

“Privacy,” they stated, mostly as a reminder to themself. They turned until their vessel’s back was to the man, and they waited until the sound of rustling cloth had stopped. They then turned back to face the man, only to be met with a blow to the face, followed by one to the stomach. The blows were strong, but the pain was mild compared to what it would have been if an angel had dealt the same blows. Humans were weaker. Castiel felt hands grab the front of the shirt their vessel was wearing, and they looked the man, now fully clothed, in the eye. The man’s face bore the same expression it had when he had just woken. And Castiel once again could not help but notice the visibility of his soul in the green of his eyes.

“What are you? Rogue demon? What?” he hissed, and Castiel blinked, averting his gaze from his eyes.

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

The man exhaled sharply. “An _angel?_ I guess that makes me bigfoot, huh.” Another blow landed against the face of Castiel’s vessel. Castiel felt skin break. But the pain was minimal. To him, at least. His vessel perhaps thought differently.

“You are not ‘bigfoot’. You are Dean Winchester. You are the righteous man.” He caught the next blow. There was a moment of silence. It was broken soon enough.

_“Righteous_ man? Oh, buddy, you want Dean, I’m here, but I ain’t no friggin' Jesus.” A pause. “What are you really, and how d’you know me.” The statement seemed more like a demand than a question. Castiel was irritated further. He refused to allow his irritation to interfere with his work, though it would certainly make it harder.

“I am an angel. My name is Castiel. And I know you because it is my mission to do so.” They said nothing for a moment, meeting green eyes once more. “God has commanded it. _..Dean.”_

The man—Dean, Castiel finally allowed himself to call him—remained silent for a long while. “Shut the fuck up. No such thing as God. Angels.” He shook his head. “You don’t wanna tell me what you are, fine. Tell me how I get outta here before I snap your neck.”

Castiel pushed out of Dean’s grasp without a word, before placing his hand gently against his forehead. Dean fell to the ground a moment later, asleep, eyes closed, the view of his soul gone. Castiel stared for a long moment, finding himself wishing he could still see the soul, then reminding himself that it was unimportant. As was the irritation he felt when Dean spoke to him in the way he had. He simply lifted his body and laid him against the cushioned surface once more, before stepping back. He stared for a second longer, unsure of why, before he left the room with a flutter of his wings. He was beginning to wonder if this man was indeed the righteous man the angels spoke of. He seemed too broken and grating to be. But Castiel would not question authority. He would simply do what he was told. He would report everything to his superiors. And he would wait to be informed what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked that chapter, have a great day/night!!


	4. Hoxmarch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, i haven't watched season 4 in a while, so bear with me if there's a few small contradictions to canon and stuff in here. i'm doing my best to try and stay consistent, and i may go back and make a few little changes to previous chapters (nothing huge, i swear, just like adding one word or sentence and such) <3 and if anyone's wondering about Cas' handprint, i swear i haven't forgotten about that, i have an idea for how that's gonna work, you're just gonna have to wait until later chapters 👀

“Nice of you to keep my clothes on this time,” were the first words out of Dean’s mouth when Castiel woke him days later. He had been restrained, to avoid further attacks, but he struggled and attempted to stand all the same. Castiel blinked slowly, noticing the way the man avoided his eyes. He silently wished Dean would look at him, though he would never say such a desire aloud.

“I assure you that your lack of clothing the first time I woke you was not intentional,” he said simply. “I had just reconstructed your body, and the thought of clothes escaped my mind.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, and he was silent for a long moment. Castiel wished he would speak more quickly. That was a desire that he would perhaps communicate aloud if Dean continued to say nothing for extended periods of time. Though he suspected that would make him an irritant in Dean’s mind. So he remained silent as well. “Right. 'Cause you’re an angel. That kinda thing is forgettable to _angels,_ I’m sure.” Dean’s voice shook just slightly as he finally spoke. Castiel tilted his vessel’s head, and he attempted to find a reason for the shaking in Dean’s voice, as well as why he had spoken those words and not asked about the reconstruction of his body. Surely, that was more shocking than the fact that Castiel had forgotten to clothe him? But most likely, Castiel simply did not understand human reaction.

“Yes. In our true forms, we do not require clothing.”

Dean looked up at them, staring for a moment, allowing a fraction of his soul to be seen, before he looked away. “Great, that’s nice,” he said quietly. Castiel nodded slightly. They waited for Dean to say something more, once more irritated when he said nothing.

“So you at last believe that I am an angel?” Castiel asked to break the silence. Dean inhaled sharply.

“No, Spock, I don’t.” His voice was rough, and he shook his head. “Why would _God_ order some _angel_ to save _me_ from Hell?”

Castiel still retained some sort of disbelief that this man was indeed the righteous man that the angels needed. That God needed. He was aggressive, he had no faith, and his soul, beautiful as it was to see, was still broken. Damaged. But Castiel would not doubt. He would continue his work as he was meant to. “God has plans for you.”

“No he doesn’t!” Dean snapped, his face distorted into a strange expression. Castiel blinked, annoyance momentarily replaced with a curiosity of some sort, a wonder of what the expression meant, what had caused it. Though they would not let the curiosity show. Dean continued to speak. “God doesn’t fucking exist! If he does, he’s an idiot. If he has some big _plan_ for me, why did he let me go to Hell in the first place?!” He struggled more against the bonds, and Castiel took a step further back, as if he might escape and attack them again. “And why _me?!_ There’s a million better people he could’ve chosen, why me?! What’s so fuckin’ important about _me?!”_ He looked Castiel directly in the eye, and they were startled by the way his soul seemed to flare. For a moment, just a miniscule moment, they felt fear. Despite Dean being unable to do them any harm. _“Nothing!_ Nothing’s important ‘bout me! So take your _bullshit_ story, and _shove it up your ass!”_ Dean’s chest was rising and falling in an exaggerated, yet almost rigid way, and Castiel was unsure of what to do. They wanted to make him sleep once more, but they were aware that doing so would be counterproductive. They attempted to think as a human would. It did little to aid the situation.

“This must be...confusing for you,” Castiel finally said, noticing that his eyes had not left Dean’s since the man had looked at him. His soul was still flaring, and Castiel felt the small moment of fear once again. “There is no need for your anger. You simply must have faith.”

“Stop,” Dean seethed. “Just shut up.” There was another stretch of silence. This one did not annoy Castiel in the slightest. Rather, it gave him time to think of what could be the reason for Dean’s outburst. Of course, it must have been terrifying in a way to spend time in Hell, only to be pulled out years later and put in a room with no visible exit. And after what Dean had endured in Hell, the emotional reaction was almost understandable. He had just been yelling a moment ago, and yelling, similar to screaming, could mean pain. Of some sort. “If you’re an angel, prove it,” Dean said after a long minute, his voice quiet and shaking just slightly. Castiel froze, before he nodded slightly. He let his wings manifest partially, allowing their shadows to cast upon the wall. He closed his vessel’s eyes momentarily, before opening them, allowing a glimpse of his true form to shine through them. He stayed in that state for a minute or so, eyes still fixed on Dean’s eyes, which were now wide open. After staring for what he decided was a moment too long, he let the shadowy forms of his wings disappear, then dimmed his true self until he looked like a simple man once more. Dean looked away without a word.

“Is that proof sufficient?” Castiel questioned. After a moment of silence, he considered the possibility that he had frightened Dean. It had not been his intention. But he needed him to believe. He needed him. All the angels did. It was part of the plan. Dean nodded slowly after a moment, still avoiding his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Castiel assumed he had indeed startled him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Castiel nodded their vessel’s head. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry these are such short chapters, it just makes this thing easier to write. i like where this is going so far, but we'll see. i know what i'm working towards, i've written some future chapters in advance, i just need to figure out how to get there from here.
> 
> have a marvelous day/night!!


	5. Gono

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for not updating for a while, it took me longer than i thought to write and rewrite this chapter until i liked it enough to post it, but i finally managed to. also i'm adding chapter names, and they will be words in enochian!!

“No offense, but ‘angelic’ isn’t the first word that comes to mind whenever you’re here.”

Castiel blinked as Dean spoke, and they said nothing for a moment. It had been several days since they had proven they were an angel to Dean, and they had come to see him and bring him food and drink a number of times in those days, but Dean had not spoken until now. Castiel assumed he had been thinking, or perhaps more accurately, processing what had happened. Whatever the reason, Dean had not spoken in days. Castiel had begun to wonder if he would ever speak again. “And ‘righteous man’ is not the first thing that comes to my mind whenever I see you,” Castiel finally said, breaking the moments of silence that stretched between the two of them. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up into a small smile for just a moment.

“Yeah…” he breathed. “‘Cause I’m not.”

Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s, and once again, Castiel saw the man’s soul. The same word repeated itself in his mind as it did any time he saw Dean’s soul through his eyes. _‘Beautiful’_. Though he pushed the word away, along with the many questions that came with it. He did not have the time for them. “You...are,” he said slowly. Dean’s eyes rolled.

“Look, man, I can’t help you. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

Castiel took a step closer. “Why not?”

“You want some...righteous dude. Someone useful. That ain’t me. If you’re an angel, there’s really nothing I can do to help you, so you might as well just send my ass back to Hell.” The words were not as harsh as Castiel had been expecting, and he could feel the sincerity of them. Dean truly believed this. He did not believe he was a good man. He did not believe he was useful. He believed he was expendable. Nothing important.

“You are useful,” Castiel said, wondering if the words reassured Dean in any way. “We need you.”

“Yeah, but for what?”

Castiel paused momentarily. “To stop Lucifer’s escape from the Cage.”

Dean snorted. _“Lucifer?_ He’s in a _cage?”_ He shook his head. “Yeah, right, and how am I s’pposed to help you with stopping the devil from getting a get-outta-jail-free card?”

Castiel titled their vessel’s head, taking a moment to ponder the question, and another moment to search for an answer. The truth was that their superiors had told them nothing of _how_ Dean was meant to help. Only that he would. Castiel had faith that their superiors would carry out God’s orders and that they simply must do their part. But now, they wished they knew, if only to help Dean have more faith as well. “That is...unknown to me,” they finally admitted.

Dean looked down, moving as if he intended to stand, but he was still bound to ensure he would not attack anyone. He cursed quietly. “Then you’re an idiot. I’m not...you got the wrong guy.”

Castiel took another step closer. “No.”

Dean seemed to start slightly as Castiel got closer, glancing at him, then looking away again. “Yeah, I’m really no ‘righteous man’.”

“You mean because of the work you have done in Hell?”

Dean said nothing, staring at the wall. Castiel nodded his vessel’s head slightly.

“We know of the souls you tortured.”

Dean’s lower lip shook, just slightly. Castiel was unsure of what it meant, so they continued.

“We know of the way the four months on earth were years in perdition. Time in this place passes in a similar way. A day on earth is many days he-”

“Okay, you’ve made your point, you know ‘bout what went down in Hell!” Dean snapped, interrupting Castiel’s final words. Castiel went quiet, allowing Dean to speak if he wished to say something more. “If you know all that, why d’you still think I can help?” he added, more quietly. Castiel looked up, then back at Dean.

“I have faith.”

Dean scoffed. “Faith doesn’t do shit.”

Castiel blinked slowly. “No, it does not do excrement of any kind, but it is a good thing to have and it is useful.”

Dean snorted a small laugh of some sort, but said nothing. Castiel prepared to leave, then stopped himself.

“Dean,” they said, keeping their voice as gentle as possible. They then waved their vessel's hand, and the bindings keeping Dean in place were gone. “Goodbye.”

Dean shook his head slightly, huffing out a breath. “‘Till next time, pal.”

Castiel then allowed his wings to take him from the room, and he set out to report to his superiors. Though something about doing so seemed just slightly strange after what Dean had said. He ignored the sensation, of course, but it was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for taking so long to add this chapter, i hope you enjoyed it and i hope you all have a fantastic day/night <3


	6. Dilzmo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i am SO SORRY for taking so long to write and post this. classes have just started up and it's been stressful. i'll try to update as often as possible :) comments and kudos always appreciated!!

Castiel did not see Dean again for many days. He silently questioned why, but never voiced the question aloud to his superiors. He simply assumed it was to divide the chore in order for more efficiency, and he waited until he was ordered once again to meet with the man. The expression on Dean’s face when Castiel did meet with him again was different than other times when he saw him, albeit only slightly. It seemed softer upon Dean’s features. Castiel was unsure of the reason as to why. Dean was standing near the corner of the room, and neither him nor Castiel said a word for a long while.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel then said. Dean hummed.

“I was startin’ to think you’d gotten tired of me,” Dean responded, and Castiel opened their vessel’s mouth to respond, but paused for a moment when their eyes caught Dean’s. They could not explain the effect seeing Dean’s soul through his eyes had on them. They felt as though they entered a state of hypnosis any time they looked. It was becoming another thing about Dean that was irritating. Irritating and mesmerizing. _‘Beautiful’._

“My...superiors simply decided that you should be in the care of other angels as well as mine. Most likely to divide the task among more of us and simplify it,” he said after a moment. Dean looked away.

“I’m that big of a handful, huh?” Something about his tone was different, as his expression had been. Confusion was finding its way to Castiel’s mind as he took notice of it. The brokenness, the harshness was still there. But it was softer. Only just.

“That was not what I intended to say, I simply meant that things work more efficiently when the work is split. I could easily do this task on my own if I was instructed to.”

Dean’s eyes rolled, and he took a few steps in the direction of the corner opposite to him. “Jesus. Are all angels like this?”

Castiel tilted their vessel’s head slightly. Dean glanced at them, before looking away again and turning his back to them.

“Never mind. Forget I asked. I’ve uh, met some of your other buddies when they came to check up on me ‘nd shit. They’re super talkative, ya know. Real jokers.”

Castiel blinked slowly. “That does not sound like Nanael or Inias,” they said. Dean scoffed softly.

“Sarcasm, buddy.”

Castiel nodded. “Apologies.”

“‘S fine.”

Dean turned. Their eyes met once again, and Castiel attempted to keep himself from allowing the beauty of Dean’s soul to distract him. At least, not for too long. He allowed himself to be lost in the colours for a moment. Only a moment. He was unable to help himself. He knew he should be attentive to the task at hand, but he silently put the blame on God for creating something so beautiful to begin with. Why had he done it? What had been the purpose of creating humans, and making their souls so beautiful? He then waited a few seconds to see if the Lord himself would smite him for thinking such a thing, before he pulled his eyes away. He tried to focus on why he had come here, what he had meant to say, when Dean spoke first.

“Can I, uh...can I ask you some things?”

Castiel waited for further elaboration.

“‘Cause...I’m confused about a lot of things.” Dean inhaled sharply. “Why d’you look like an ordinary dude? No offense, y’know, you’re a handsome bastard and all that jazz, but uh...not very angel-y looking.” The man shrugged. Castiel pondered if they should answer the question. It seemed harmless to do so.

“My true form is most likely considered much more ‘angel-y’, as you put it. This is a vessel.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he seemed to recoil slightly as if struck by Castiel’s words. “Like a fucking demon? You’re possessing some guy?” He did not yell, but his words sounded demanding. It was a tone Castiel was able to recognize. His superiors often had a similar tone.

“Angels may only possess willing vessels,” Castiel attempted to reassure. “The man whose body I am inhabiting, he allowed me to enter.”

Dean softened just slightly once again, though his expression remained twisted and hard. “Okay…” he said slowly, and Castiel assumed he was still uncertain. They almost spoke words they hoped would reassure Dean once more, but they reminded themself that there was a task they were meant to complete.

“What other inquiries do you have?”

Dean pulled once at the sleeve of his shirt. “Uh…” He looked down at his feet. “So. I mean. I was dead,” he began. “I remember biting the dust, and I remember…” He stopped, his breath seemingly freezing in his chest for a moment, before he continued. “Hell. I remember all that.” His voice was much softer than moments before. But it was more broken, shaky, unsteady. “How’d I get here? Where is here? Am I still…” He did not finish his words, but Castiel understood what he meant to say.

“You are very much alive, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said simply. Dean nodded.

“Great.”

Castiel could not tell if he meant it genuinely or not. The tone was strange. Similar to when he had pointed out that he was being sarcastic. “You are in Heaven. I brought you here after I raised you from Hell,” Castiel added. Dean bit his lip.

“Yeah, still don’t know why you did that.” He shrugged, his lips then pressing closed. Castiel tilted their vessel’s head once more.

“Because you are necessary. You are the righteous man.” He paused, watched Dean for a reaction, though he knew he would most likely not understand the response, whatever it was. Dean’s lips remained pressed tightly together; he said nothing. Castiel once again met his eyes. They seemed unable to keep from doing so at this point. It was innocuous, but it made them become further annoyed with Dean and with themself. They looked at the wall behind him instead, bringing their words to revert to their mission. “We fought for you, Dean. We brought you back. We need you. And you _will_ help us.”

Dean’s lips were unmoving, eyes returning to stare at his feet. Castiel found himself wondering what he was feeling. What any human would feel in this situation. He wondered what Dean’s thoughts looked like. He wondered what it would be like to think and feel in that way. He pushed that notion away. He needed not think of such things. “If you say so,” Dean finally said. Castiel blinked.

“I do.”

Dean shook his head, once again saying nothing for a moment, before looking up. “That’s all I got, buddy.” He shrugged. Castiel did not believe him. Surely, the man must have had more questions? But they nodded, having forgotten what they were meant to be doing. It certainly was not answering Dean’s questions. They were meant to be ensuring he would still be willing to help the angels’ cause, they recalled. And while they had worked towards that in some small way, that was not all they had done. But they would take Dean’s ‘if you say so’ as a good enough answer to report to their superiors. So they turned, preparing to spread their wings and take their leave. Then, “Wait, hold up.”

Castiel turned back to look at him. “Yes?”

Dean exhaled slowly. “See ya ‘round.”

Castiel paused. “Goodbye, Dean.” He left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, i am sorry for taking so long to update. i hope you enjoyed that chapter, and eventually, i'll be able to post faster, because a lot of what i already have written are scenes from later chapters!!
> 
> have a fantastic day/night <3


	7. Camilax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for taking so long to post, school is wild. but i return with this chapter that i am posting in the middle of my science class, so here you go <3

It was once again many days before Castiel was told to see Dean again.

More than the last time. Castiel silently wondered why.

When he was ordered to go, it was revealed to him that Dean had taken to not speaking when the angels brought him food and drink. Nanael had attempted to coerce the man into helping Heaven, as Castiel had meant to be doing, and Dean had not said a word. Castiel wondered what had changed since he had last seen him that had caused that reaction.

“You’ve already eaten,” Castiel commented when they entered the room and saw the empty platter that had been brought a moment before sitting on the pedestal, along with Dean sitting near the corner of the room. He raised his head slowly, eyes meeting those of Castiel’s vessel after moments of silence. They turned their gaze from Dean’s eyes to the wall behind him before they caught a glimpse of his beauty.

“Was hungry,” Dean’s voice came, grating, cutting through the air. Castiel took a minuscule step towards him, slightly surprised at the reply. Not because of the words, but more so because Dean had spoken at all. 

“That was...quick.”

Dean snorted some sort of laugh, and it almost sounded as if he were choking on it. Castiel suspected laughter was not meant to sound that way. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Dean muttered, leaning his head back to touch the wall he was sitting against. “Guess you don’t gotta be worried that I’ll starve and you won’t be able to use me to stop Lucifer or whatever.” He sighed, his head shaking just slightly from side to side. “Serious question, though. Is grey you guys’ favourite colour or somethin’?”

Castiel blinked slowly. “No,” he said simply. Dean sighed loudly.

“Damn, okay.”

Castiel looked around the room for a moment, before their eyes feel once again on a spot of the wall just behind Dean. “I was told you were not speaking.”

Dean hummed. “I wasn’t.”

Castiel, unable to stop himself, looked at Dean. Green irises, and the bright colours and wisps of Dean’s soul beyond them, stared back at them. “Then why are you now?” Castiel managed momentarily. Dean’s eyes turned elsewhere.

“Guess since you’re the angel who saved me and all that, me ‘nd you have a deep connection, y’know? We’re just _made_ for each other.” He paused. “Sarcasm,” he added with a roll of his eyes. “Your other angel buddies, the ones that come when you don’t?”

Castiel noted the change in subject, but said nothing as he waited for further elaboration.

“Yeah, they’re real convincing. Know almost as much about the whole Lucifer thing as you do. Meaning nada.” Dean shook his head. “One of ‘em really got to the point that she was tryna threaten me. Said she had ‘authorization to be hostile’ if I didn’t say I’d help.” He let a slow breath out through his nose. _“That’s_ why I stopped talking.”

Castiel paused, processing what Dean had said. They believed they sensed honesty in Dean, on that note, at least. He seemed to be telling the truth. “My superiors said Nanael reported that they asked you to fulfill your role in stopping Lucifer after you had stopped speaking. And they said nothing of being...hostile.”

Dean’s eyes closed for a moment. “Oh. Guess maybe they didn’t have authorization, huh,” he mumbled, then opening his eyes again. Castiel tilted his vessel’s head.

“They most likely had authorization, as do I. Otherwise, they would not have risked you telling someone else,” they started. They then paused. They pondered what had been said. Had Zachariah and their other superiors simply not wanted to give them all the details of Nanael’s report? Or had Nanael lied? Castiel pushed the questions away. Questions were dangerous. They were especially dangerous if voiced aloud. And Castiel would never do such a thing. Castiel had faith. “Apologies,” they finally said. Dean let out another strangled laugh.

“Don’t. I don’t care about the threats, pal.” He shook his head. “They could’ve tied me down and started carving me open right there and then. You could, too, right now, and I wouldn’t-” He stopped his words, as if catching them before they escaped, and his eyes fell. “Nothing new,” he whispered, quietly enough that most humans would likely not have heard. Castiel heard clearly. He was unsure of what to do, of what to say, of how to carry out what he was meant to do.

“You will help us, correct?” he finally said. Dean looked at him, and he said nothing. Castiel avoided his eyes. “It is your fate.”

Dean said nothing.

“I do not wish to harm you.”

Dean’s head fell, eyes downcast. And he said nothing. Castiel said nothing, either, nor did they do anything.

They simply stood.

And they waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> have a wonderful day/night <3


	8. Dodsih

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, i'm back!! hope y'all enjoy this chapter <3 comments and kudos always appreciated.

“What did he say?”

Castiel blinked at the demand in Zachariah’s voice. “He said nothing,” they replied. The face of Zachariah’s vessel twisted, and though the expression was unfamiliar, Castiel could see part of his true form behind the face. They understood the expression there clearly. Zachariah had been to earth more often than Castiel had; he understood more than they did of humans. And despite his adoption of certain human mannerisms, he abhorred humanity. It was strange, though Castiel never questioned it.

“Did you try to force him into saying something?” Zachariah then said. “Or what _exactly_ did you do?”

Castiel shifted just slightly as Zachariah came closer.

“Did you even try?” Zachariah raised his eyebrows. Castiel nodded slowly after a moment.

“I...asked if he would help us,” he said, staring back at the other angel. 

“You didn’t do anything other than ask?”

Castiel blinked. “I assumed it was in our best interest not to harm him.”

Zachariah’s eyes rolled. “Did you at least manage to get him to talk about anything, or was that a no-go, too?”

“He spoke,” Castiel said simply. “He spoke of the threats.”

“Threats?” Zachariah questioned.

“Nanael’s threats. According to the righteous man, they prompted him to silence.”

Zachariah sighed loudly. “Right, those.”

Castiel said nothing as Zachariah confirmed Dean’s words to be true. They silently considered why Zachariah might have kept it from them, but they did not dwell on the notion for long. “I will ensure he helps our cause,” they said after the silence. “His stubbornness will not interfere with our plans.”

Zachariah hummed. “It better not.” He looked at Castiel. “Don’t make me find a replacement for you, Castiel. You’re good at what you do. Don’t disappoint us. Do whatever you need to, as long as it gets him to help us.” 

Castiel silently nodded. He did not want to be replaced. As irritating as Dean could be, he enjoyed the importance of his role in God’s plan, though he would not say so. He simply needed to do as he was told. And if he were to eventually be replaced, so be it. It would be God’s will.

“You’re dismissed,” Zachariah said, interrupting Castiel’s thoughts. Castiel said nothing more. They simply nodded, then left without another word.

Unlike the last time and the time before, Castiel saw Dean again quite soon. He had been told to visit him more frequently. Not only that, but it was apparent that Nanael and Inias were no longer tasked with bringing Dean food or anything of the sort. The mission was again Castiel’s, and his alone. He reflected upon the sudden change, though he was unsure of the reason as to why Zachariah had decided to make his visits constant once more. Whatever the cause, Castiel did as he was told without question or inquiry. Preservation of faith was of the utmost importance, in order to complete an assignment. For what was an angel without their faith?

When Castiel entered the room, they heard the faint sound of humming. The sound was soft, a small trace of coarseness within the gentleness of it. It was almost unheard, as if it was not meant to be perceived by anything other than the source. Castiel's gaze fell upon Dean, who was lying upon the cushioned platform in the centre of the room. The heels of his hands were pressed tightly against his ears, his eyes closed, brow creased, and his Adam’s apple moved just slightly. Castiel realized the humming originated from Dean, and that the man had not heard him enter. The tune of the hum was unfamiliar. Something from earth that Castiel had never heard before, most likely. He set the platter of food and drink he had brought on the pedestal, before approaching Dean slowly. “Hello,” he said. It elicited no response from Dean. “Hello,” Castiel repeated, more loudly. Dean seemed to start slightly, eyelids pulling open. He sat up quickly, and his eyes fell on Castiel. His expression was hard, and then it softened, albeit only just.

“Goddammit,” he mumbled. Castiel turned their vessel’s head to the side, maintaining their eyes on Dean’s. They did not allow themselves to be distracted this time. Zachariah had been quite clear.

“It was not my intention to scare you,” they said. Dean shook his head, but to Castiel’s annoyance, said nothing. So Castiel spoke once more. “I brought you food.”

Dean inhaled slowly. “Okay.” He paused, and their eyes met again. “I wanna see my brother.”

Castiel held his gaze. “I apologize.”

Dean’s brow furrowed further, his expression becoming harder. “What d’you mean? I said I wanna see my brother.”

“That is not possible.”

“And why the hell not?!” Dean snapped, his voice like two blades thrashing against each other. “You said I’m alive. You could just send me back to earth.”

Castiel looked to the side, observing the wall. “We need you. I cannot send you back.”

“Then ask your boss to!” Dean stepped towards him until they were face to face, a small distance between them. “I’m not talkin’ more than ten minutes, man, please. I just wanna see him.” He shook his head. “I needa know he’s okay.”

Castiel took one step backwards after a moment. “He is alive.”

Dean’s soul flared behind his eyes, and his hand jumped forward to roughly seize the front of the shirt of Castiel’s vessel. “That _doesn’t_ mean he’s _okay.”_ He spoke the words softly, but the scratch of blades hidden beneath the quietness remained. Castiel stared at him for a long while, unblinking, thinking of what they should do. They slowly grabbed Dean’s forearm and pried his hand away easily. Dean took a step backward, letting out a huff, before turning his back to Castiel. "I...look, I’ll help you," he said, quietly enough that Castiel barely heard. "I'll do whatever I gotta do for the whole stopping the devil thing. But only if I can see my brother first.”

Castiel blinked. “You give your word?” they asked. Dean looked back at them.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me see my brother.”

Castiel nodded once, slowly. “I will speak with my superiors,” he said. Dean turned once more to face him, and he nodded slightly in return.

“Okay.” Dean did not look away. And Castiel simply stared, expecting Dean to avert his gaze eventually, but the man stared back. Castiel refused to lose themself in Dean’s eyes, staring into his soul, but simultaneously, they refused to look away. The reason for that was still very unknown to them, but it was irritating to the point of near exasperation. The colours, the scars, the pain, the light, the pull, the unfathomable intricacyof Dean's soul, all within Castiel's sight. All broken. Delicate. Harsh. _'Beautiful'._ “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you for a while,” Dean said after a moment of time that Castiel did not keep track of. “Was expecting Nanael and their dumbass threats again or somethin’.” One of his eyebrows raised just slightly. Castiel nodded once, arranging his thoughts.

“The task is now mine alone,” he said, realizing far too late that telling Dean of his duties was most likely not advisable. The only conclusion Castiel could come to was perhaps he had become distracted, despite his attempts not to.

“Great,” Dean said simply, the scrape of metal on metal almost undetectable, yet still present. Castiel slowly noted that Dean often spoke in that manner, and that he had not been attentive to it before. Now that he had noticed, he wondered if he would ever be able to ignore the way Dean’s voice resonated. The thought only pushed him closer towards exasperation. He had felt irritation before, but with Dean, it was stronger than most times in the past. How could Dean distract him in this way? Was Castiel simply intrigued and fascinated by human mannerism, as he had close to no interaction with humanity? 

“Dean,” they said, strenuously. "Touch me again," they began lowly, "And I will find another, less lenient angel to replace me. Perhaps Nanael." Castiel paused. Dean did not flinch. He simply stood, his expression twisted, his chest rising and falling more quickly than before. "And I will ensure you never see your brother." Castiel was unable to help themself from speaking the words. The irritation was ever-growing inside of them, and perhaps, more strategically, it would draw more cooperation from Dean. "Goodbye, Dean." He then left without waiting for another word from Dean. The feeling just short of aggravation remained, and he only hoped it would not interfere further. He hoped, and yet, in the back of his mind, there was a silent reminder. A reminder that Castiel gave no attention, but a reminder nonetheless.

Broken.

Delicate.

Harsh.

_'Beautiful'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a fantastic day/night!!


	9. Oma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i'm not dead hhh just losing my mind, but hey, that's life. however, i come bearing this new chapter, so here you go!! i hope you enjoy it <3

The request for Dean to see his brother did not go well.

During his report on Dean’s current state, Castiel told Zachariah of Dean’s demand. Zachariah stared for a moment, and he laughed, and he shook his head, and he said a simple ‘no’. Castiel did not question it any further, despite his belief that allowing Dean to see his brother would make matters simpler. Zachariah told Castiel to obtain Dean’s loyalty during his next visit, or someone else would be assigned the task.

Dean was humming softly once again when Castiel saw him the next time. The melody was not the same as the one he had been humming before, though it was just as unfamiliar. Castiel listened, saying nothing, simply focusing on the vibrations of Dean’s vocal chords and the way it irritated them further. Though they would not allow it to show. They had decided that threats would be counterproductive unless absolutely necessary, so they would make no more. They had simply been aggravated, and they had little experience with such a feeling. They had not thought. They had simply spoken, and they would not allow any such feelings disturb their work further, whatever the reason they felt them.

Dean’s humming ceased after a time, and he sat up slowly. He remained quiet, as well. The room was bathed in silence for a long while, before Castiel finally spoke.

“Dean,” he said. Dean inhaled sharply, then looked at him.

“My brother,” he said in response, the clash of metal on metal in his voice almost startling. Castiel paused.

“No.”

Dean looked away, shaking his head. He did not say a word for a moment, but Castiel had some sort of notion of what he would say. He waited for Dean to open his mouth, and when the man at last spoke, Castiel noted that he had assumed his response correctly. “Then you might as well kill me now, ‘cause I’m not helping you.”

Castiel advanced and gripped Dean’s shoulder tightly with a swift movement, pulling him close. They felt Dean resist and attempt to push away, but they did not release him. They simply stared for a long moment, their eyes meeting Dean’s. Then their grip loosened, and they allowed Dean to step back slightly. His eyes remained on Castiel’s own, unmoving, unblinking. Castiel did not blink either. He simply stared at the man, silently wishing he would look away, because he knew that he himself would not be able to. But Dean looked. Dean did not move. Dean stopped attempting to pull back. And Castiel saw his soul. His thoughts became momentarily clouded with the words to describe the sight, the same words as before, but he swiftly pushed them away. He cursed Dean silently, finally finding it within himself to look up from his eyes.

He then left the room without a word, bringing Dean with him.

He left heaven.

He searched the earth.

He found the younger Winchester.

He went to him.

When Castiel landed, Dean lurched forward so quickly that they were almost forced to let him go. He fell to his knees after a moment, and Castiel strengthened their grip on his shoulder. They were going against what they had been ordered to do, and if Dean escaped in this process, things would not end well. Castiel would not let him go. They needed him to cooperate, and they hoped this would be worth the disobedience in the long term. It was a risk, but it seemed to be necessary.

“Jesus,” Dean seethed, the drag of blades harsher still in his voice. Castiel noticed his hands were pressed into tight fists and that he shook beneath his own hand. “F-fuck...you-” Dean inhaled sharply, stopping his own words. He then turned his head to look at Castiel, his face contorted and hard. “You’re gonna crush my damn shoulder.”

The metallic blades sparked.

Only then did Castiel allow his grasp to loosen, albeit only slightly. He pulled Dean to his feet shortly after, averting his eyes and looking around the room they had now entered. Dean struggled in his grip, words of protest spilling from his mouth, but Castiel ignored him. The door of the room opened momentarily, and a young man, taller than both Dean and Castiel’s vessel, entered. Dean stilled in Castiel’s grip.

“Sammy…?” came hoarsely from Dean’s mouth. The sound of metal diminished slightly. Castiel looked at him, noting that his facial features had softened. They slowly allowed their grasp on him to dissipate.

“He cannot hear us,” Castiel said simply. Dean glanced at them, his face growing rigid for a few moments. He then returned his gaze to his kin, and his face softened again. He moved closer, whilst the brother sat completely unaware on one of the beds in the room. 

“Sam…” Dean spoke softly. “Sammy, look. Look, it’s me. Please, look at me. Sammy-”

“He cannot hear us,” Castiel repeated, interrupting Dean’s words. He reached out to grab Dean just as Dean reached out to place a gentle touch on his brother’s shoulder. “We should go.”

Dean shook his head as Castiel pulled him back, trying to move forward again. “Wait, wait, just hold on a sec, okay? Just...just gimme a moment.” His soul flared, though not in the way that it had before. Not in the way that had come close to frightening Castiel. The flash was different. Strange. And it compelled Castiel to listen to him, for a moment. They hesitated. And they released him once more.

“Be quick. Do not touch anything.”

Dean nodded, returning his gaze to his brother and taking one step forward. Castiel prepared to pull him back once more, but Dean did not move farther than that. “Sam, I know you can’t hear me,” he began, softly, the scrape of metal undetectable. “I don’t know if I want you to hear me or not anyway. Don’t know if...if I’m ready to talk to you.”

Castiel watched in silence. He was confused as to why Dean spoke to his brother, despite clearly knowing he was unable to listen. But whatever the reason, he allowed Dean to have this moment.

“I...I miss you, man...” Dean’s voice shook, and his brother looked up from where his face had been buried in his hands, though he was still unaware of Dean's presence. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to leave you and I’m sorry that...when I come back, I’m not gonna be the same.”

Castiel did not say that he was unsure if Dean would be able to return to earth. If it was a part of the plan. He remained silent. Dean continued.

“I’ve done things, Sammy,” he said quietly. “Things I shouldna done. And I wish I’d been stronger, but I...I-I wasn’t. I’m sorry.” His voice began to tremble more strongly. Blades melting before they were able to collide. “I just...I’m so-” His words cut off, as if he had begun to choke on the hot liquid metal. “I’ll be back,” he then said. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. Don’t do anythin’ stupid, okay? Love you. I’ll see you soon.” He turned a moment after he finished speaking. Castiel stared at him.

“Are you ready?” they asked after a time. Dean seemed hesitant, though he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, the metal hardening, the blades thrashing together once again. But his face remained more softened. “Thanks.”

Castiel nodded once, before grabbing Dean’s shoulder and taking them both from the hotel room. He hoped Dean would now aid the angels as promised. And despite his aggravation, though he would never admit it to anyone, he very nearly hoped Dean would see his brother again, when everything was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated, have an amazing day/night!!


End file.
